When the War was Over
by MissMorrigan
Summary: Being the daughter of the infamous Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange isn't easy. Especially after the war when her mother is dead and she befriends Charlie Weasley, the son of the woman who killed her mother. AU. EWE. CW/OC DM/HG pairings eventually. Rating for implied sexual situations later on and language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! I am really excited about this story, it's a lot different than Out of Time but I think it has just as much potential. Charlie is one of my absolute favorite characters, and I'm sure you all know (if you've read my other fics) I'm a bit of a champion of the Black family and can't stay away from them. Please read and review!**

**-Morrigan**

**I own nothing recognizable.**

It was so loud in the Great Hall, so many people were shouting and screaming. It was difficult to focus on one thing for very long before a shriek or a crash stole your attention away. The thick smell of dark magic hung in the air so palpable you were practically swimming in it.

Lyra hadn't been in there long, as soon as she had made her way inside she was pulled into helping her fellow Slytherin defectors move some of the dead out of the way. There were so many people still dueling, but there were two major fights going on. Voldemort was dueling with McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once and she felt a pang of worry for her professors, she didn't think there was anyway they would make it out of that duel alive.

The second duel, which she was trying very hard to ignore, was Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood; they were fighting against her mother, Bellatrix Lestrange.

She was busying herself with moving the people who had fallen, trying not to look at their faces in fear that she would recognise an old classmate or even a friend. In her attempts to ignore what her mother was doing, she looked down at the face of the woman she was helping Blaise Zabini carry.

The woman was her cousin Nymphadora Tonks, or she supposed it was Lupin since she had married. Lyra hadn't known Tonks very well, they had been at Hogwarts together until Lyra's fifth year but they were little more than acquaintances, certainly not friends. She couldn't help the pang of guilt and sadness in her heart. They may not have been close, but Tonks was just as much her blood as Draco was.

"No," she whispered as they laid her down, out of the way. She brushed a bit of mousy brown hair out of her cousin's closed eyes. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

She felt Draco's hand on her shoulder and turned around to look at him, when she heard her mother shriek with delight and her eyes instantly travelled to where she stood. She saw the flash of green light pass dangerously close to Ginny Weasley.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!"

The room fell silent, or it seemed like it did, as Mrs. Weasley ran towards her mother, wand in hand. She felt nauseas. Her mother laughed dangerously as she began to duel with the plump redhead. Her grin faded into a snarl, as it often did, when the fighting became serious and she knew, she knew one of those mothers wasn't going to walk away from that duel.

She didn't know what propelled her feet forward, but suddenly she was running, running towards her mother. Maybe she was going to help her; maybe she was going to try to stop her, she didn't know. She made it as far as halfway before Draco realised what she was doing and he shouted for someone to stop her.

Before she could react her Aunt Narcissa had her arms around her, holding Lyra tight to her chest. In hindsight Lyra probably could have overpowered her but she barely even struggled.

"Lyra," Narcissa whispered into her ear. "It's okay sweetie, it's okay."

When she had ran towards the two women, others had done the same but Mrs. Weasley was shooing them away. "No! Get back! _Get back!_ She is mine!"

Lyra's heart plunged into her stomach at her words; she was a mother fighting for the lives of her children, to avenge the death of already one son. Lyra's mother who still had the same deadly snarl on her face wasn't fighting for her daughter she was fighting for _him._

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" her mother taunted and Narcissa's arms tightened around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

"Mum no!" she tried to scream but it came out as more of a whimper.

"You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" Mrs. Weasley screamed.

Her mother laughed and for just a breath of a second she was as Lyra remembered her, beautiful and smiling.

Then Mrs. Weasley's curse hit her square in the chest.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room with one of those Muggle vacuum things. Lyra's ears popped and it felt like her whole head was ringing. She watched as my mother's body fell to the floor, dead.

Narcissa's arms went lax around her and she screamed, jumped to her feet again and ran to her mother. She was facedown on the cold stone floor when Lyra reached her and pulled her into her arms.

She was shaking as she turned her body over and hugged her to her chest, her long black hair getting tangled in Lyra's.

"Mummy," she whispered the word over and over like it was a spell that could bring her back to her.

"Mrs. Weasley no!" she heard Granger shout from behind her.

"But the girl!" Mrs. Weasley shouted back.

"She is just a girl!" Narcissa said, coming to stand in front of her as she held her mother's body. "A girl whose mother just died, leave her be Molly!"

She could hear the tears in Narcissa's voice but she didn't look up when she knelt down next to her. She knew her aunt was sad and probably angry just like she was, but she couldn't open my eyes because then she would see the way her mothers dark eyes stared at the ceiling, empty.

She cried and rocked back and forth, still clinging to her mother's body that was getting colder by the second. She hardly noticed when Potter killed the Dark Lord, she looked up when she heard Narcissa gasp but through her tear-filled eyes she couldn't make much out.

She felt it when he died though, her Dark Mark burned for several agonising seconds before turning ice cold. She didn't look at it until the next day, but it had faded into an ugly scar, the same shape and size as it had been.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, in the Great Hall, holding her mother's lifeless body. Her eyes fluttered halfway open and she could just barely make out a man's jaw, covered in stubble and longer bright red hair hanging down against his face.

The last thought she had before drifting back to sleep was that this man must be a Weasley, though he was no Weasley she had ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I won't be posting these so closely together normally, I just want to get a bit more of the story out there! Please read and review!**

**-Morrigan**

**I own nothing recognizable**

* * *

When Lyra woke she was in a familiar room, in a bed that was familiar but one that she hadn't slept in for several years. She was in the Slytherin dorms, she could tell by the slight greenish tint coming through the windows.

She rolled over and sat up, rubbing a bump on the back of her head as the memories from the battle came flooding back. She bit back a sob when she thought of her mother's lifeless body falling to the floor under Molly Weasley's hand.

There was a stirring in a corner and Lyra grabbed for her wand but came out empty. She shrieked as a large man stood up from a chair at the foot of another bed, she pulled the blankets up to her chin.

"Who, who are y-you?" she stammered, recognising the man as the same one who carried her after the battle.

The man smirked at her and sat on the bed next to hers. She noticed that he wasn't too tall, but he was very well muscled and his skin was rather tanned. He had shoulder length messy red hair and looked like he hadn't shaved in a month. She blushed when she realised that he was really quite attractive.

"Come on Lyra, you don't know who I am?" he said, quirking a brow at her.

She narrowed her eyes. "I know you're a Weasley but I have no idea which."

His smirk turned into a grin. "We went to school together for four years and you really don't know who I am?"

Lyra coughed. "Sorry, there are just so many of you."

The man's grin widened and he stuck out his hand. "Charlie Weasley, it's a pleasure to meet you again miss."

She rolled her eyes and ignored his hand. "Well if you'll excuse me, I need to find my aunt," she said, getting out of bed on the opposite side, away from Charlie.

He chuckled behind her and she turned around, frowning at him. "What?"

Charlie smiled and shook his head. "They told me you would be stubborn."

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone, your family, my family. I'm your guard, Lyra."

She furrowed her brow. "My guard?"

He nodded slowly.

"So I'm a prisoner?" she arched a brow at him.

"You're not a prisoner, no. But you'll have to go on trial just like the rest of your family," he said calmly.

Her jaw dropped. "I left the bloody Death Eaters! I was fighting on your side the entire battle!"

He closed his eyes. "I know, we heard the same things from your cousin. This wasn't my idea, Lyra. Just be glad they didn't throw you in a cell at the Ministry."

"Is that where my family is?" she demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at the redhead.

"No," he shook his head. "The Malfoy's are here too, for now. We'll be taking you all back to Malfoy Manor later today."

"And my father?"

Charlie paused and looked her up and down, seeming to measure the threat she posed to him. She knew it was minimal without her wand, she wasn't very strong and he definitely was.

"Your father is at the ministry. They took all the Death Eaters who had been stunned there immediately after the battle."

Lyra sighed in relief. She had been the one to stun her father, only to keep him from being killed by the Order. She never had any hopes of doing the same to her mother, and she knew she would never be forgiven if she had been able to anyway. Her father was a different story, towards the end of the war he hadn't wanted to fight anymore; he had grown weary of it all.

"I want to see him," she said suddenly. "I don't want someone else to tell him about my mum."

Charlie's eyes widened and his expression was cautious. "I don't know if they'll let you see him."

Lyra walked over to him and poked his broad chest with her finger. "You listen to me, Charlie Weasley. My parents may have done horrible things but they are still my parents and I love them. You are going to take me to see my father because your mother murdered my mum and it's the least your family can do."

Charlie opened his mouth and closed it before nodding. "I'll do my best, but it probably won't be today."

"That's fine," she said. "As long as I get to see him before his trial."

Charlie waited in the common room while Lyra showered and dressed, she found some Muggle clothing in one of the wardrobes that had been left behind by fleeing students. When she went out to meet her guard, the rest of her family was sitting there, an Order member for each of them.

Lyra arched a brow at Draco who just shook his head warily. Narcissa stood up and enveloped Lyra in a warm hug.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked.

"Bloody awful," Lyra said, and braced herself for a scolding from her uncle about her language, but he didn't say a word.

She felt her aunt smile. "Me too."

When her aunt released her she walked over to the sofa where Draco was sitting and curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and she had to admit, being with her family made her feel a thousand times better. But even at a thousand times better, she still felt broken inside like someone had shattered her.

"We should head to the Great Hall," Charlie said suddenly, waking Lyra from her thoughts. "You lot need something to eat before we take you back to your Manor."

Narcissa pursed her lips. "We can eat when we get home, no need to linger here."

One of the other guards shook his head. "Sorry ma'am, but we have orders and we're meant to take you to the Great Hall."

The older witch scoffed. "This is ridiculous, you're treating us like we're murderers."

One of the guards, a young witch who couldn't have been more than a few years older than Lyra laughed harshly. "You lot might not 'ave killed nobody by your own wand, but there ain't no difference tween a murderer and a Death Eater."

Lyra's mouth hung open at the girl's words and Draco stirred, reaching for a wand that Lyra knew wasn't there. Even Uncle Lucius who had seemed near comatose since Lyra arrived turned to gape at the witch.

Charlie stood up and raised his hands slightly. "That's enough, Smith, there is no need for that. Let's all just go up to the Great Hall, you can eat if you want, and then we can all be on our way."

Narcissa crossed her arms under her chest and pursed her lips defiantly. Lyra stood up, pulling Draco by the hand to walk over to his mother.

"Aunt Cissy," she said quietly. "Let's just get this over with and we can go home."

Her aunt's eyes softened when they met hers and Lyra knew she wouldn't protest anymore, it was just the grief and unshed tears taking their toll.

When the family of Slytherin's and their guards walked into the Great Hall, the entire room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at them.

"Well this is bloody uncomfortable," Draco hissed under his breath to Lyra, who rolled her eyes.

They sat several places away from the Order members and Charlie went up to talk to Kingsley who appeared to be the leader. Ignoring the food in front of her, Lyra looked over at the place where her mother had taken her last breath, a few silent tears falling down her cheeks.

Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulder again and she buried her face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely. She looked up when she heard Charlie sigh, and noticed that he was standing right behind her and Draco.

"I just talked to Kingsley," he said. "We're going to take you home and two of us will be staying with you until your trials are over."

"Only two of us?" the witch named Smith protested. "You really think that's going to be enough to contain this lot?"

Lyra saw Charlie smirk through her tear filled eyes.

"I think a couple of dragon tamers can handle four Slytherin's, don't you think Wes?" Charlie arched a brow at one of the other guards, a man about the same age as Charlie with a grizzly scar that cut diagonally across his face. The man smirked and nodded.

"Are you serious?" Smith said, standing up. "I was assigned to be their guard too, Weasley, what makes you so special?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Oh I dunno, maybe the fact that I can be civil towards them and didn't manage to offend them immediately."

Narcissa stood up. "Can we leave please? I'm very uncomfortable with everyone staring at us."

Lyra looked at Smith who was glaring at Charlie. "I'd like to leave as well," she said, turning her dark eyes on the redhead.

"Yeah," Charlie said, not breaking eye contact with Lyra. "Let's get you lot home."

* * *

When they arrived at Malfoy Manor via Portkey, Lyra was shocked at the state of the home she had grown up in. The shrubbery was untrimmed, the grass was longer than she had ever seen it, the peacocks were nowhere to be seen, and the Manor itself looked like it was haunted. There was this eerie silence around the grounds that Lyra had never felt before; she held her breath as her uncle pushed open the grand double doors.

She let the air out of her lungs and tried to stand a little straighter as she walked into the Manor, everything was exactly as it had always been. Nothing was out of place, but the air seemed stiff and cold like no one had entered the house in a decade.

Lyra followed her aunt and uncle into the kitchen, a room she had spent very little time in growing up and watched with her head tilted to one side as Narcissa began to pull food out of cupboards and the fridge.

"You can cook?" she asked, walking over to her aunt.

Narcissa smiled. "Of course I can, but I'm just making some sandwiches, nothing fancy."

"You never cooked for us growing up, the house elves did."

The older witch shook her head. "No sweetie, I cooked most of it, the house elves just served it."

After eating their lunch, the family dispersed, each going to different rooms of the large house. Lyra sighed against the door before practically running to her bed and burying her face into her pillows. She had no idea how long she had laid there crying before there was a soft knock on her door.

"Go away," she said to the door. "I want to be left alone."

"Lyra," a deep voice said. "It's Charlie, I need to talk to you."

She threw a pillow at the door. "I don't want to talk to you, Weasel."

The lock clicked and the door pushed open. "I know, but it's about your dad."

Lyra sat up and hastily brushed the tears off her cheeks. "Why didn't you say that before? Get in here."

Charlie chuckled and bent down to grab the pillow she'd thrown at the door. "I hadn't pegged you for a frilly pink type of girl."

Lyra rolled her eyes and glared at him. "My aunt decorated the room for me when I came to live here when I was seven. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I hated pink, so I've left it the way it was."

Charlie smiled and sat on the edge of her bed. "I talked to Kingsley about taking you to see him tomorrow."

She raised her eyebrows. "And?"

He snorted. "And, oh impatient one, he said that it wouldn't be a problem. We can go tomorrow after lunch."

She grinned at the redhead before throwing another one of her frilly pink pillows at his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for your favs/follows and especially your reviews! If you haven't read my other fic Out of Time, you really should, it's nearly finished and I'm hella proud of it. (and I am not above shameless self promoting) So yeah. Read, review, enjoy. And Happy Christmas!**

**-Morrigan**

**I own nothing recognizable. **

* * *

The next day Lyra slept in until lunch time, and all she could think about was visiting her father so she threw on the first thing in her closet, a pair of Muggle jeans and an old Slytherin Quidditch t-shirt. She was pulling a pair of grey converse on when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in!" she called.

Charlie stepped through the door with his hands shielding his face.

Lyra smirked at him. "I'm not going to throw any pillows today."

He grinned as he lowered his hands. "You gonna eat anything before we go?"

She brushed past him on the way out the door. "I'll grab some toast!"

"It's nearly afternoon, you can't just eat toast!" Charlie said, following her down the corridor.

"That's a normal lunch for me Charlie, don't worry."

He huffed. "That's why you're so bloody thin, you don't eat anything."

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes. "That's the reason."

After eating the previously discussed toast Lyra and Charlie were halfway to the foyer when she heard her aunt calling her name.

Lyra groaned and turned around, walking to the sitting room. "Yes?"

Narcissa turned and smiled at her niece. "You weren't going to say goodbye before you left?"

Lyra smiled and crossed the room to hug her aunt. "I'm sorry Aunt Cissy, I'm just anxious to see him, that's all."

"I know sweetie," Narcissa said, smoothing down Lyra's black locks. "Give him a hug from me?"

"Of course," Lyra kissed her aunt's cheek and followed Charlie back out of the room.

"You two are close," he observed.

"She and Uncle Lucius raised me after my parents went to Azkaban, I was seven when I came to live here so in many ways they are my parents."

Charlie nodded and held the front door open for her. "It's good that you have them, especially in times like these."

She pursed her lips. "In times when we're all under house arrest and there are Gryffindor's guarding us?"

He smirked at her. "Wes went to Durmstrang, he's not a Gryffindor."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

When they reached the Ministry, Lyra followed Charlie through the corridors, stopping in front of what she knew to be the Minister for Magic's office. Charlie knocked twice on the door.

"Come in!" Kingsley Shacklebolt's booming voice called from behind the door. Charlie pushed the door open and Kingsley grinned at them. "Oh Charlie! I had nearly forgotten!" The older man looked at Lyra. "Miss Lestrange, how are you doing?"

Lyra straightened up a bit. "I'm well, thank you."

Kingsley cocked his head at her and Charlie laughed.

"She's doing better than I would be, in her position," Charlie said, smirking at her and she rolled her eyes at him.

Lyra walked behind Kingsley with Charlie close behind her down to the dungeons where the prisoners from the war were being held before their trials. She tried to ignore the whispers and the stares, but it was getting more and more difficult as they walked further.

"Isn't she a Death Eater?" she heard one woman whisper to her companion.

Lyra turned her dark eyes on the two women.

"Yes," the other said. "That's Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter, she looks just like her. I heard Molly Weasley killed her at Hogwarts."

Lyra stopped walking and Charlie bumped into her. "What's wrong?" he asked, placing his hand on the middle of her back.

"Those women," she said, leaning back into his hand. "They're talking about my mum, and they said I was a Death Eater."

Charlie sighed. "Come on," he said, giving her a bit of a push. "What other people have to say doesn't matter. Let's go see your dad."

When they got to the cell, Lyra's hands were shaking and her stomach was in knots as she turned to Charlie. "I don't know if I can do this."

He smiled. "Sure you can, I'll be with you the entire time."

She took a deep breath and nodded at Kingsley, who opened the door with his wand. First she peaked around the corner, thinking she was going to chicken out but when she saw her father sitting at the small round table in the room, she ran to him.

"Lyra," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her small frame.

She was crying again, practically sobbing into his shoulder.

"Daddy," she said and after a few minutes she sat down on the chair next to him. Not wanting to let go of him completely, she clutched his hand tightly. "Are you okay? Are the treating you alright?"

"I'm fine pumpkin," he said, stroking her hair with his free hand. "What about you? Are they holding you and your mother here too?"

Lyra's heart sank into her stomach and tears filled her eyes. She grabbed his hand as he wiped a tear off her cheek and held his palm against her cheek.

"I'm under house arrest at the Manor with the Malfoys," she took a deep breath. "But Mum, she didn't make it out of Hogwarts."

"No," he said under his breath, shaking his head. "No, that can't be true."

"I'm sorry Daddy," she said, the tears falling thick and hot down her cheeks. "I tried to help her, I tried."

Rodolphus shook his head and wrapped his arms around his daughter again. "No pumpkin, that wasn't your job. It was my job to protect both of you, I'm sorry I wasn't there."

She shook her head. "I couldn't let you get hurt too, I had to protect you."

Realisation dawned on his face and he hugged her a little tighter. "Oh pumpkin."

"I just wanted you safe," she hiccupped.

"I know," he said and kissed her cheek before looking over at Charlie. "Are you the one taking care of my daughter?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes sir."

"I don't want her at my trial," he said, not breaking eye contact with the redhead.

"Daddy no," Lyra protested, shaking her head. "I have to be there."

He smiled at his daughter and cupped her cheek again, tears filling his eyes for the first time. "I don't want you to have to see that, pumpkin. You had to see your mother die, you shouldn't have to see them give me the Kiss."

She shook her head harder. "No. I'm going to be there."

"So stubborn just like your mum," Rodolphus said, kissing her forehead then looked at Charlie. "I'm trusting you to keep her away, Weasley."

"I'll do my best sir," Charlie said. "Lyra, it's time to go."

"No," she said, clutching onto her father's neck.

Rodolphus hugged her tightly. "It's okay, I'll be alright. I love you pumpkin."

She pulled away and looked at him through her tear filled eyes. "I love you too Daddy."

Lyra didn't move until she felt Charlie's hand on her shoulder, she stood and walked out of the room without a word or a backward glance. She would have kept walking straight out of the Ministry if Charlie's hand hadn't held her back. When they got out of the corridor with the room that held her father, his grip on her shoulder tightened.

"Lyra," he said warily as though talking to a dangerous dragon. "Stop."

There was a bench a few feet away that he directed her to and she slumped down as though in defeat.

"You didn't even say goodbye," he said.

She shook her head. "We never say goodbye. The thing about having known fugitives as parents is that every time you walk out the door it could be the last time you see them. So we never say it, that way it's never final, we'll always see each other again."

Charlie didn't say anything, and Lyra seemed to be finished crying so they sat there in silence until she asked to go home.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter is completely in Charlie's POV. It's probably my favorite chapter so far, but it was difficult to write with Fred's death and all of that. I really would have kept him alive but it seemed better for the plot to leave it cannon. :( as always, read and review!**

**-Morrigan**

**I own nothing recognizable. **

* * *

It had been exactly one week since Lyra had left her chambers. When she and Charlie arrived at the Manor after seeing her father; she shut herself inside and only allowed Narcissa to bring her food. She said she needed space, time to think over everything that had happened in the last few weeks.

Charlie had left her alone after the second time she asked him to go away. He didn't want to push her, but he was inexorably drawn to the witch. They hadn't been friends, or really even acquaintances while at Hogwarts together but he had always been keenly aware of her presence, even then.

It wasn't that he didn't have the guts to approach her, or that he didn't think it could work between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. In fact, his grandmother on his father's side was a Slytherin and his grandfather had been a Gryffindor, and he didn't know of a couple that had loved each other longer.

No, it was because Lyra Lestrange was one of the most intimidating witches he had ever laid eyes on. She was smart and very beautiful, but most of all she was mean. She wasn't cruel like her mother; she was defensive and often hostile, probably because she had spent most of her life standing up for herself against people who assumed that she was just like her mother.

Even when she wasn't ripping you a new asshole, her confidence was enough to make grown men cower in the corner, Charlie always assumed it was a trait she got from her mother. She always stood tall and never seemed afraid of anything.

She wasn't like that anymore though, Charlie thought. She was broken. She was just a girl who had been cast a crap lot in life and had had to deal with more than any other witch her age. From what Draco had told him, her mother had forced her to take the Dark Mark and join the Death Eaters and that she had argued with Bellatrix about it for weeks beforehand. When it came time she stood straight and didn't even flinch even though Draco said it was the most painful thing he had ever experienced, like a concentrated Cruciatus Curse right on your forearm.

He had gotten two days off from his guard duties to attend Fred's funeral, with Smith taking over for him at the Manor. The funeral had been huge, hundreds of witches and wizards paying respect to not only a war hero, but also someone who had made them laugh and smile in a time when they needed it most. He had given a speech, since he had been closest with the twins out of the rest of his siblings. It was a nice speech; everyone had told him it honoured his brother well. But Charlie felt empty inside; he just wanted to go back to Malfoy Manor where he could pretend nothing was wrong.

His family and some friends had gone back to the Burrow after the service. He would have preferred not to join them, but he knew he had a duty to the memory of his brother to be there. He was sitting on the floor at the end of the sofa in the living room, staring into the fire when he felt someone brush against his side.

"Hey," Hermione said, offering him a cup of cocoa. Her bushy hair was tied into a loose plait down her back, and there were tear tracks down her cheeks.

"Hey," he said, taking the cocoa gratefully. It may have been the middle of June but cocoa always seemed to make him feel better.

"I can't stand this," she said after a few moments of staring into the fire. "I don't want to be here and I don't want to cry anymore."

He set his cocoa on the floor and stretched his long arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. "I'm sorry, Hermione I don't know how you're getting through this."

She snorted. "He was your brother and you're holding up better than I am."

"Did he know how you felt?" he asked gently.

She nodded her head against his shoulder. "Yes, when I was staying here last summer before Bill's wedding we both finally admitted it to each other. I can't believe it had taken us so long."

Charlie laughed. "I think he'd fancied you since your third year."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'd fancied him since my first year."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

She sighed. "We thought it would be best to wait until the war was over, and you know how much your mother wants Ron and I to get together."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Ron is too much of a prat for you."

Hermione lifted her head and grinned at him. "I hadn't seen Fred in almost a year until that day, you know."

He squeezed her shoulders. "I'm so sorry Hermione."

"Me too," she said. "How are things going with the Malfoys?"

He looked back at the fire and sighed. "Good ol' Lucius seems to have lost his mind entirely, he doesn't say much and really just goes through the motions. I think if it weren't for Narcissa he would probably just die. Draco actually isn't as much of a prat as I thought he would be by the way you lot always talked about him."

Hermione huffed. "I'll believe that when I see it. How is Lyra?"

Charlie shifted uncomfortably and Hermione arched a brow at him. "She's, um, well, she's fine."

"Charlie," Hermione said softly, knowingly.

He sighed and rubbed his jaw; the stubble there was more than he was used to. "I took her to see her dad and she hasn't come out of her bedroom since then."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well she did just lose her mother, and her father is likely to get the Kiss. That's a lot for anyone to handle."

Charlie nodded solemnly. "I just wish I knew how to help her."

"She'll come to you when she's ready."

* * *

When Charlie woke the next morning, his back was stiffer than it had been in a long time. He was too big for the bed in his childhood bedroom, even though he wasn't as tall as his brothers, his feet still hung off the edge.

The house was quieter than he had ever remembered it being as he crept down the squeaky stairs. Nearly everyone was gathered in the kitchen even though it was early, Charlie assumed everyone else had as hard of a time sleeping as he had.

There were a few mumbled "good mornings" when as he sat, but the kitchen was silent otherwise. He sat next to Hermione who had dark circles under her eyes and hair sticking out at odd angles. She offered him a half smile and passed him a few pieces of toast and the jam.

"So Charlie," Ginny said from across the table. She looked better than Hermione did, but only just, her normally sleek and shiny red hair was a matted mess and her eyes were bloodshot. "How are things going with the Malfoys?"

Molly choked on her tea and every other pair of eyes focused on the second eldest brother.

Charlie sighed. "It's been going pretty well actually. They're not as terrible as I had envisioned. They're mostly just tired and sad."

Ron snorted. "What have they got to be sad about? They didn't lose anyone!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him across the table. "Yes they did, Ronald. Don't be so daft."

Ron furrowed his brow in confusion. "Who?"

Charlie rolled his eyes at his brother. "Lyra lost her mum and her dad is probably going to get the Kiss."

Ron's mouth dropped open as everyone else watched the exchange. "They're all bloody Death Eaters, it's their bloody fault this happened in the first place!"

Charlie clenched his fists under the table.

"It doesn't matter if they were to blame or not," Harry said wisely. "Death of a loved one isn't an easy thing to deal with even if you're a Death Eater."

A few hours later, after a lunch of sandwiches Charlie decided to check on George.

He knocked softly on the twin's bedroom door. "George? It's Charlie."

There was a quiet thump and then the door clicked open and Charlie could hear his brother shuffling back to his bed. He pushed the door open and walked inside. It was almost completely dark inside except for a lamp on George's nightstand. The younger twin was laying facedown on his bed.

Charlie pulled the chair out from George's desk, careful not to touch anything on Fred's side of the room and sat down next to George's bed.

"Don't ask me how I feel," George mumbled into his pillow.

Charlie half smiled. "I wasn't planning on it little brother. I'm just looking for a little insight."

That got his brother's attention. George lifted himself up on his elbows and looked at Charlie through bloodshot eyes.

"You know I'm staying with the Malfoy's, acting as their guard while they're under house arrest?"

George nodded slowly and Charlie went on.

"Well Lyra asked, or demanded rather, that I take her to see her father before his trial. So last week I did and she hasn't come out of her bedroom since. She only allows Narcissa into her room to bring her food."

George fully sat up, his back resting against the wall and sighed. "You want me to tell you what to say to her to get her to open up to you."

Charlie grinned. "Pretty much, yeah."

George pursed his lips. "There isn't anything you can say or do, she lost her mum. I dunno what that feels like, but I'm sure it must be awful. I didn't know her that well at Hogwarts, but she was usually fairly nice to Fred and me. I know she lived with the Malfoys since she was seven and she never condoned what her parents did, but I know she loved them."

Charlie nodded, a slight frown now on his face. "What about after they broke out of Azkaban?"

George shook his head. "I dunno, she was out of Hogwarts by then. But I can assume that she was pretty torn about it. She's not a bad person, she was just in a shitty situation."

They were silent for a few moments, Charlie picked at his nails and George stared across the room at Fred's unmade bed.

"I think the best chance you have of getting through to her is with Fred."

Charlie cocked a brow at him. "How so?"

"Tell her that you can relate," George said. "Tell her you know it's not the same thing, but that you just lost your brother, having something in common will at least get you through the door."

Charlie's mouth twitched up in a half smile. "You are the best, Georgie."

George almost smiled and Charlie stood up to leave the room. He had his hand on the door when George spoke up again.

"Wait," he said and pointed to a box at the end of Fred's bed. "See that box? Inside are some sample boxes of our best selling Wheezes, give one to Lyra I'm sure it'll make her laugh."

* * *

That night after dinner Molly pulled Charlie to the side.

"I want you to be careful at that Manor," she told him, holding tight to his arm. "They're dangerous people."

Charlie pursed his lips at his mother. "They don't have wands, Mum. And if you could see them right now, you'd know they're not so dangerous. They're too tired to be dangerous and they've been through a lot."

Molly looked offended. "Like we haven't! My _son_ is dead!"

Charlie closed his eyes and counted to five. "Mum, I know that. You don't think I'm grieving too? They're a lot like our family right now, they're grieving over someone they loved."

Molly scoffed. "No one could have loved that horrible woman."

"Mum," Charlie said as calmly as he could. "When have you ever met a child who didn't love their mother? Lyra is twenty-two and her mum just died. She's having a rough time."

"I can't believe you have any sympathy for these people!"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "You know that Draco and Lyra were fighting on our side, against their parents the entire battle? And that if it weren't for Narcissa lying to Voldemort, Harry would be dead right now?"

Molly huffed and stormed away in the opposite direction.

* * *

The next morning Charlie woke up early, having said his goodbyes the night before he wanted to get out fast. He stopped as he got to the last step when he heard someone sniffling in the living room.

Quietly he crept into the large room; he could see Hermione's bushy hair sticking up over the sofa.

"It's okay Hermione," he heard Ginny say softly. "It was just a bad dream."

He felt bad for sneaking away, but he didn't have the patience to deal with crying girls at five o'clock in the morning.

When he apparated back to the gates in front of Malfoy Manor, he looked around the dismal grounds and decided that if Lyra still wasn't willing to talk to him, he would get Draco to help him at least get it back to a presentable state outside.

"Has she come out yet?" he asked, popping his head into the library where Draco was reading a book on the sofa.

Draco pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't think she'll come out until our trials start, but you're welcome to try again mate."

Charlie shook his head once and walked back down the corridor towards her room. It was on the same floor as Draco's, but it was on the opposite side of the hall. He paused when he reached her door, his hand poised to knock.

He still wasn't sure what he was going to say to her, but her father's trial was two days away, maybe if he promised to take her she would let him in.

He knocked twice but there was no response. He knocked again, louder this time and said her name. Still, no response. Just as he turned to walk back to Draco's room, the door clicked open.

He grinned, pushing the door open and stepped inside just as a frilly pink pillow hit him square in the face.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he laughed, tossing the pillow onto the bed next to her.

She looked better than he expected. Her eyes weren't bloodshot; she looked freshly showered and was wearing clean clothes, even a bit of makeup if he guessed correctly.

She smirked at him. "Old times sake," she said cheekily. "What do you want, Weasel?"

He rolled his eyes and sat down at the end of her bed. "First of all, I want you to call me Charlie, not Weasel."

She arched a brow at him. "I'll think about it."

He laughed. "Good enough, second I have something for you."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Well," he said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the shrunken box. "I went home for my brother's funeral a few days ago and I got this from George."

He took out his wand and returned the box to its original size. "It's—"

"I know what it is," she said, eyeing the box. "It's their best selling items."

He smirked and nodded his head, offering the box to her. She took it, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Thank you," she said and looked up at him, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry about Fred."

He nodded slowly. "I'm sorry about your mum."

She sighed and set the box on her nightstand. "I want to go to my dad's trial, I'm assuming it's going to be before any of ours."

"I was afraid you'd ask me that," he said. "Of course, Kingsley has granted you all permission to attend, since you are family, but I don't know if that's such a good idea."

She shook her head. "I don't care if it's a good idea or not. I want to go. He's my dad."

Charlie heaved a heavy breath and closed his eyes, and she knew she had him.

"Thank you," she said and before he could respond she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.

His eyes fluttered open and she was sitting only a foot away from him and looking at him like he was a knight in shining armour.

"Y-your w-welcome," he stuttered, his cheeks turning pink.

She smirked at him and crawled back to the head of the bed. "When is the trial?"

"Two days," he said, cringing when her face fell.

"Right," she said stoically. "Tell my aunt that I'll come down for supper tonight, please."

He knew that she was dismissing him so he stood and left, closing the door behind him.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" he said, knocking quietly on the open door to her study.

"How many times do I have to tell you Charlie? Please call me Narcissa."

He smiled and stepped into the room. "I talked to Lyra, she said she's going to join us for supper tonight."

The blonde witch arched a brow at him. "How did you convince her to do that?"

He grinned at her. "I didn't have to, I gave her a box of my brothers' products from their shop and agreed to take her to her father's trial, that's all I did. The supper thing was all on her own."

Narcissa smiled and patted the sofa cushion next to her. "Come and sit," she said. "I pulled out an old family album, your grandmother is in it."

Charlie sat next to the older witch, curious about the book on her lap. She pointed to a very old black and white photo of three very pretty young women.

"This one," she pointed at the middle girl who had fair hair. "Is your grandmother. She and my grandfather were cousins, you know."

He shook his head. "I knew she was a Black, but I didn't know how closely related our families were."

"That makes you and I third cousins, and you are third cousin's once removed with Draco and Lyra."

He shuddered at the thought and to his horror Narcissa noticed and smiled at him knowingly.

"Don't worry," she said with a chuckle. "It's far enough removed that it's perfectly fine that you fancy her."

Charlie's eyes widened and a blush crept along his neck and up his cheeks. "I-I don't—"

Narcissa's smile widened. "You don't have to pretend with me, Charlie. I think you'd be good for her anyway."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry this update has taken so long, my husband and I met his family at Disney World for the weekend and then when I got home I tried to upload this chapter, but there were some issues with the website. :( So here it is and I'll try to update more often from now on! Please please please leave me a review, or at least follow/fav the story so I know that you like it! **

**-Morrigan**

**I own nothing recognizable.**

* * *

The morning of her father's trial, Lyra didn't go down for breakfast. She spent the morning sitting in her closet, unsure of what to wear. The night before she had lain out a simple dark green set of robes, but in the morning light they didn't seem quite right for the occasion.

There was a soft knock on her bedroom door and she assumed it would be her aunt checking to see if she was ready or not.

"Lyra?" a deep voice that was decidedly male called from the main room.

Lyra jumped up and threw the closest robe she could reach on, she had been sitting in nothing but her bra and panties.

"Charlie?" she called back as soon as she was covered.

"Where are you?" he asked. "I brought you some toast."

She laughed. "I'm in my closet you oaf."

"Erm, which door would that be?"

She couldn't help but grin. "The one on the left, it's halfway open."

Charlie walked through the door with his arms out in front of him with his eyes slammed shut.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled.

"Well you're in your closet, I wasn't sure if you were decent."

She snorted. "Don't you think I would have said so if that had been the case?"

He opened one eye and then grinned, looking at the pile of clothes surrounding her on the floor. "What's this all about?"

"I can't decide what to wear."

He sighed dramatically. "Women."

She pursed her lips at him. "Nothing seems quite right, everything is either too innocent or too risqué."

He wasn't paying any attention to her; he was looking around her vast closet. "Blimey," he said. "I think your closet is the size of my entire cottage at the reserve."

She huffed at him. "If you're not going to help me figure out what to wear, then get out."

He grinned down at her. "You should wear something in a lighter colour, don't wear black or anything dark."

She stood and walked to the other end of her closet where the lighter coloured robes hung. "Like this?" she held out a pale yellow set of robes.

He crossed the distance in a few short strides and shook his head. "You're too pale to wear that."

He looked at her small selection of lightly coloured things and tapped his chin. "This is better."

Charlie had selected a set of robes that reminded her of the colour of the sky.

"Light blue?" she said skeptically, arching a brow.

He nodded. "People will see you as more approachable if you wear a lighter colour, believe me that's important before your trial. The entire Wizengamot will be watching you today."

Lyra's stomach turned. "Well thanks for that," she snatched the robes out of his hands. "Like I wasn't nervous enough."

Charlie sighed. "I just want you to be prepared."

She brushed past him, heading for her bathroom. "Why do you even _care_, Weasel?"

Lyra paused for the space of a heartbeat and she swore she heard him mumble that he had always cared, before she ran to the bathroom to change.

When they arrived through the visitor's entrance to the Ministry the press was waiting for them. There were reporters from every major (and some minor) newspaper around the wizarding world.

The family and their guards were so stunned as questions were shouted at them and flashes of lights nearly blinded them that they just stood there dumbfounded.

"Miss Lestrange!" the notorious Rita Skeeter shouted from the front of the pack. "How does it feel to be imprisoned by the son of the woman who killed your mother?"

The question snapped Lyra out of her daze and she narrowed her eyes at the smiling blonde witch as Charlie's hand wrapped around her bicep.

"My family and I aren't going to answer any questions," Narcissa said loudly, a look of pure anger on her face. "Especially not questions like that."

"You all got your photos, now clear the way," Charlie boomed and the crowd of reporters parted a bit so they could walk quickly through.

They were quiet as they walked down the corridor to the courtroom; Lyra hugged her arms around her chest, hoping to stop her hands from shaking.

Wes held the door to the room open and the Malfoy's filed in silently; he winked encouragingly at Lyra before following them in. She let the door shut behind him, not sure if she could face what lay beyond.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked softly, his hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head. "I don't know if I can do this. I know I put on a brave face, but I'm a mess right now."

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. "He's your dad, you don't have to be brave about this."

She shrugged. "I feel like I shouldn't be sad, because of everything he's done. Like it's wrong for me to not want him to get the Kiss."

He sighed. "I would be worried if you didn't feel that way. It means your human. What kind of person could honestly wish death or madness upon their parents?"

She took a deep breath. "It's not going to get any easier, is it?"

"Probably not," he said. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Lyra sat between her aunt and Draco, with Charlie and Wes behind the family. They were sitting in a section designated for the family of the accused, it was to the left of the Wizengamot, where they would be able to see the face of whomever was in the chair in the center of the room. The benches that were opposite them were filled to the brim with witches and wizards of all ages, Lyra knew they were the friends, family, and in some cases, the victims themselves of the people her parents had hurt or killed.

Every eye was on her and the whispers were deafening, though she was quite sure that her heart was beating loud enough that everyone in the room could hear. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Draco's lips twitch up in a smirk before he reached over and took one of her hands in his. She instantly calmed at his touch. Other than her aunt and uncle, Draco had been the only constant in Lyra's life; having him there next to her was a great comfort.

She squeezed Draco's hand as the members of the Wizengamot filled in, the butterflies in her stomach were going mad. She tried to take a few deep breaths but it wasn't helping. Very few of the Witches and Wizards even looked at her, and even fewer still seemed sympathetic. She watched as the Chief Warlock spoke, but it was like there was a fish bowl over her head, his words were distorted and she could barely hear.

It wasn't until the doors opened and two rather large Aurors escorted Rodolphus Lestrange inside the courtroom. Lyra's heart jumped into her throat as she involuntarily lurched forward a few inches toward her father. Draco's grip on her hand tightened and she let out a soft whimper. Lyra's eyes locked with her father's, as he was strapped to the medieval chair in the center of the room.

They didn't break eye contact until the Chief Warlock spoke up. "Will the accused please state his name for the record."

Rodolphus's eyes lazily moved from his daughter to the full Wizengamot. "Rodolphus Andrew Lestrange."

"Are you aware of your charges?"

Rodolphus blinked at the man. "Yes."

"Where are the dementors?" Lyra hissed suddenly at Draco, who shook his head and shrugged a shoulder before turning back to his uncle.

"Do you dispute any of your charges?"

"Only one," Rodolphus said, causing whispers to break out across the courtroom.

"Silence!" the Chief Warlock said loudly, and the whispers died out. "Which would that be, Mr. Lestrange?"

Rodolphus slowly turned his tired eyes back to his daughter, Lyra's heart once again jumping into her throat as she drunk in his appearance, afraid it would be for the last time.

"I did not force my daughter into taking the Dark Mark."

Every eye turned to Lyra, including those of her family surrounding her. She gasped, her hand jumping to her heart as she kept her eyes locked with her fathers.

"Miss Lestrange?" the Chief Warlock said and she reluctantly looked away from her father and up at the old man. "Are you willing to testify today?"

When she didn't say anything for several moments, Charlie put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn around to face him.

"It's okay Lyra, you can do this," he smiled reassuringly and she turned back to the Chief Warlock.

"Yes," she said as loudly as she could over the whispers in the room.

The old man nodded. "Come here, miss. Sit in the witness stand please."

Lyra took a deep breath and stood, keeping her back straight like she had been taught and walked up to the stand. After she was magically sworn in, she briefly looked around the room, which she instantly regretted when she caught the eye of Molly Weasley. Her stomach turned but she took another deep breath and tried to focus on why she was there.

"Please state your name for the record," the Chief Warlock said in a tone that suggested utter boredom.

"Lyra Bellatrix Lestrange," she said proudly, locking eyes with her father who nodded at her slightly.

"Miss Lestrange, are you aware of the charge your father is speaking of?"

Lyra shook her head. "No sir."

The old man sighed. "Your father is being charged with coercing you into taking the Dark Mark and joining the Death Eaters against your will. Is this true?"

She took another deep breath. "No."

More whispers from the crowd.

"Silence," the Chief Warlock warned. "Will you please elaborate, Miss Lestrange? Tell us in your own words of your father's involvement in your becoming a Death Eater."

Lyra stiffened. "My father had nothing to do with it. He was actually quite against it, and spoke out about it on more than one occasion."

Once again the crown broke out in whispers.

"Silence!" the Chief Warlock bellowed. "If I have to tell you again, I will silence the audience."

It was immediately quiet in the court, as though no one dared to even breathe. The Chief Warlock motioned for Lyra to go on.

"My mother first suggested that I take the Dark Mark in 1996, after the Dementors revolted and left Azkaban unguarded. My father immediately told her that it wasn't going to happen."

"When did you take the Mark?"

"It wasn't long after that, the last discussion we had about it was just before the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Probably only a few hours before. They fought about it, my mother was insistent but my father stood his ground. After the battle, Mum came home but Dad didn't, he was taken back to Azkaban. It was only a few days later that they forced me to take it."

"Who forced you?"

"Ahem," a voice said to the left of Lyra. Every head turned to a woman in ghastly pink robes.

The Chief Warlock arched a brow at the toad-faced woman. "Yes Dolores?"

"I thought this hearing was for Mr. Lestrange, not his daughter. I'm under the impression that hers will be held in a few weeks?" the squat witch smiled and blinked up at the Chief Warlock, not even bothering to look at Lyra.

The Chief Warlock didn't seem amused. "Dolores, I believe that I am Chief Warlock, not you. I can ask any witness whatever questions I choose, so long as they pertain to the case at hand. I believe that since Miss Lestrange's involvement with the Death Eaters is intimately entwined with the charges against her father, it is most certainly pertinent."

"Of course, sir," the pink witch smiled and took her seat again.

The Chief Warlock sighed again and turned back to Lyra. "Miss Lestrange?"

Lyra nodded. "My mother forced me, sir. And the Dark Lord as well. He said I was only resisting because of what my father had said."

"Which was?"

"That I would have a better life if I didn't take the mark."

The Chief Warlock nodded. "Thank you Miss Lestrange, that will be all for now."

Lyra stood, balling her shaking hands into fists she walked back to her family. When she sat, Draco took her each hand in turn and massaged it back open.

The Chief Warlock turned back to Rodolphus, whose gaze was turned back on Lyra. "I am going to drop the charge against you in regards to your daughter. Your other charges still stand, you are a known Death Eater and you will serve life back in Azkaban should the Wizengamot find your guilty."

Lyra's jaw dropped open.

"I was under the impression that I would receive the Kiss," Rodolphus said slowly.

Lyra's heart was nearly ready to thump right out of her chest as she squeezed Draco's hand so hard she knew there would be nail marks. She looked desperately at the old man, hoping beyond hope that her father's soul would remain in his body.

The Chief Warlock sighed. "The Dementors are no longer under the employ of the Ministry, so Azkaban is now under the control of specially trained Aurors," he turned to face the Wizengamot next to him. "Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, all who find Rodolphus Lestrange guilty on all charges, please raise your hand now."

Lyra's heart sank as she watched every single hand, including the Chief Warlock's go up. Even though it was exactly as she had expected, there was a seven-year-old child somewhere still inside her that couldn't bear the thought of her daddy being taken away again.

The Chief Warlock turned back to Rodolphus. "You have been found guilty and will serve the rest of your life in Azkaban," the old man squinted his eyes at Lyra. "I will permit you to say goodbye to your daughter before you are taken away. Under the new administration at Azkaban you will be allowed to have visitors on a restricted basis, they will tell you more when you arrive."

Lyra's chest swelled at the thought of being able to visit her father, of not having to say goodbye forever. She must have let out a sob because Charlie reached forward again and squeezed her shoulder as they watched her father walk out of the courtroom, escorted by the Aurors.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So. Um. I can't really focus because of reasons (sherlock) so I'm just going to hand you this and run away skipping.**

**Oh! And I want to give a huge thank you to a certain best friend of mine who has to put up with my insanity and is sort of my beta reader for all of my stories because I force feed everything to him in painfully small increments. So thank you peasant, you are the best.**

**I own nothing but the plot, Lyra, and Charlie's fashion sense. **

* * *

Charlie paced back and forth in front of Lyra's door for what seemed like hours before finally getting up the nerve to knock. He decided that he wanted to get to know her better, he wanted her to let him in and the only way to do that was to talk and spend time together.

"Who is it?" she called.

He took a steadying breath. "Charlie."

He could hear her walk barefoot across the wood floor before the heavy door creaked open and she stood there, one hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised.

"What do you want, Weasel?" she huffed.

He was slightly taken aback; he wasn't expecting this sort of a reaction out of her.

"Just wanted to talk," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "What is there to talk about? You took me to see my dad, I got what I wanted from you."

Charlie took a step back; to say that his ego had been bruised was an understatement. It felt like she had hit him with a ton of bricks.

"I suppose you're right," he said wearily.

She sneered at him, that perfect Slytherin sneer and closed the door in his face.

"Right," he whispered to himself. "Weasley, you are an idiot."

* * *

She wasn't sure why she had been so rude to Charlie, he had been nothing but kind to her, but without the threat of her father's soul being taken away looming over her head, she was seeing clearly again. Charlie was keeping her family prisoners in their own home. He was a self-righteous Gryffindor and she was an ambitious Slytherin, they couldn't be friends. She didn't want to be friends with a Weasel anyway.

Especially not when his mother had murdered hers. Sure, it was in defense of her daughter and if Molly hadn't killed Bellatrix, Bellatrix would have killed both Molly and Ginny, and probably Granger and Lovegood too. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

Lyra leaned against the door after she shut it in his face and sighed. Charlie Weasley was the least of her problems. She had a trial to prepare for, and a very private funeral to plan for her mother.

* * *

Lyra hadn't spoken more than five words to Charlie in the week since her father's trial, and he had only acknowledged her with grunts and nods, he wouldn't even look her in the eye. Part of her was upset about it, but mostly she didn't have time to think about it. She and Draco had been preparing their defense and she and Narcissa had been planning her mother's funeral.

The funeral was a _very_ private affair. Only the Malfoy's and Lyra were there, in the small cemetery behind Malfoy Manor. No words were said but Narcissa and Lyra both cried, perhaps not for the person Bellatrix had become, but for the person she used to be, for the person Lyra had always needed her to be.

Lyra had shut herself in her rooms once again after they buried her mother, and it wasn't until she knew that her aunt and uncle had retired to their chambers for the night that she left hers.

She crept along the corridor, not completely sure if what she was about to do was a good idea. Actually, she knew it was a bad idea but she didn't really care. She was sick of being sad and alone.

She paused at the doorway; she could see Charlie sitting in the library, an old family photo album in his hands. She padded along barefoot to stand next to the sofa arm.

"What's that?" she asked, startling him.

He looked up at her in surprise. "Erm, it's a photo album that your aunt showed me."

She arched a brow. "A Black family album?"

He nodded and she walked around him to sit on the sofa. She deliberately close enough to him so that when she pulled her legs under herself, her knees touched his thigh. She smiled slightly at the faint blush on his cheeks.

"This," he pointed at a girl in a black and white photo. The girl was standing between two other girls who looked nearly identical to her, tall, willowy, and blonde. "Is my grandmother, Cedrella. She's with her sisters Callidora and Charis."

Lyra smiled. "Your grandmother was a Black? I never knew."

He chuckled. "My grandmother and your great-grandfather were first cousins, actually."

Lyra wrinkled her nose. "That makes us related."

He rolled his eyes. "Only distantly. Don't worry, the stains of dishonour won't mar your perfect pureblood status."

She slapped his arm lightly. "I don't care about that shite, Charlie. I don't really care about anything anymore."

He arched a brow at her. "Is that why you're speaking to me now? You made it pretty clear the other day that you didn't want to."

She sighed. "I made a mistake, I shouldn't have shut you out," she carefully took his hand in hers and looked up at him through her long lashes.

He sucked in a breath. "Lyra," he warned. "This isn't—"

She put two fingers from her free hand against his lips. "Shut up Charlie," and she stood, pulling him up with her to lead him back to her bedroom.

* * *

When Charlie woke the next morning, he was not in the room he had been sleeping in since coming to stay with the Malfoys. No, he was in a decidedly pink bedroom that was much larger than his. A bedroom belonging to possibly the most incredible and infuriating witch he'd ever met.

He grinned at the memory of the night before. Charlie had been with other birds before, of course, quite a few in fact. But none held a candle to Lyra Lestrange. She was a tiny little firecracker, and he loved that.

She was lying with her head on his chest, his arm was wrapped loosely around her waist and their legs were tangled together under the mess of blankets. He tightened his arm around her small waist and lightly kissed the top of her head, hoping he wouldn't wake her.

"Good morning, Weasel," Lyra said, yawning.

He chuckled. "So it's back to Weasel, is it?"

"Don't get the wrong idea here, Charlie," she said, sitting up slightly on her elbow so she could look him in the eye. "We fucked. And it was brilliant and I would like for it to keep happening, but that's all it is."

"Right," said Charlie as he rolled on top of her and pushed his hips into hers. "Just fucking."

* * *

Some time later, Lyra's head was once again resting on Charlie's chest; she was counting his heartbeats in her head. _One-two-three, one-two-three._ She wasn't thinking about the man who lay beneath her, she wasn't thinking about how many times they'd shagged in the last day, she wasn't really thinking about anything. Just counting his heartbeats.

_One-two-three, one-two-three._

His heart was steady and strong, just as one would expect by looking at him. She knew that she was attracted to him, possibly on more than just a physical level. But it didn't matter. She couldn't let him matter to her. There was just too much crap going on in her life to add something like a boyfriend into the mix. Especially when that boy was a Weasley.

It didn't matter that Lyra didn't care about blood or that her family was moving away from the whole notion of blood purity. He was still a Weasley and she was still a Lestrange. The two just couldn't mix.

Besides, his mum had killed hers. That wasn't something that could be overlooked.

Reluctantly, Lyra lifted her head off his chest, severing his heartbeats from her thoughts. He seemed to be sleeping, which was good. It was always easier to escape when the man in your bed was sleeping.

She slid out of bed carefully trying not to jostle him awake, grabbed her old Slytherin t-shirt and slipped into the sweatpants she'd worn the night before.

She almost made it to the door.

"Where are you sneaking off to?" Charlie said sleepily.

She silently cursed the creaky wooden floor before turning around and giving him her sweetest smile. The expression felt foreign and caused Charlie to arch a brow at her. "I was just a bit hungry, thought I'd run down to the kitchen for some toast."

"You need to eat more than toast," he said as he rolled off the bed and pulled his jeans on.

She swallowed hard as she watched him walk slowly towards her, his t-shirt hanging loosely in his left hand. She couldn't help it as her eyes traveled along his well-muscled shoulders, his broad chest, down his abs and along the line of dark red hair that went from his belly button to the top of his still unbuttoned jeans. She bit her lip as memories of what was under those jeans popped into her mind and she flushed deeply when he chuckled.

"That's enough for today, little bird," he said now just standing mere inches away from her.

She managed to regain her composure and arched a brow at him. "Little bird?"

Charlie smirked and pulled his t-shirt on. "All you ever eat is toast, you remind me of a bird."

She sneered at him. "I eat more than toast, Weasel. Just not for breakfast or lunch."

His smirk widened as he trailed his fingertips from her thighs up to her waist. "That's why you're so thin, you eat like a bird."

* * *

When Lyra walked into the dining room, followed closely by Charlie, two pairs of eyes instantly locked onto her. Wes was giving Charlie an amused half-smile and Lucius, who was sitting at the head of the table, was staring unseeing out of the window.

It was Narcissa and Draco who were looking at Lyra with questioning eyes, and she refused to look at her aunt, instead choosing to glare defiantly at her cousin. After a few seconds Draco's face broke into the first real smile she'd seen on his face in years and he winked knowingly at her as she sat down at her spot next to him.

"Pass the toast?" she said after a few moments of avoiding her aunt's stare.

Narcissa sighed. "Lyra, I wish you would eat more than just toast. You've gotten so thin in the last few years."

Charlie snorted and Lyra turned to glare at him, and he grinned. "See, I'm not the only one who thinks that."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "You say that like I'm the only one who has lost weight since the war started."

"Leave her alone Cissy," Lucius said, not taking his eyes off the window. Everyone at the table turned to gape openly at him. "We all deal with stress differently. Lyra is alive and healthy, we should be thankful for that."

Lyra clenched as tears formed in her eyes. "Thank you Uncle Lucius," she said quietly and he gave the slightest of nods as he looked out the window.

Narcissa wiped a tear off her cheek quickly and looked away from her husband. "Oh, I nearly forgot! A Ministry owl came this morning, a letter for each of us."

She reached inside her robes and pulled out four thick envelopes sealed with the unmistakable crest of the Ministry for Magic. Lyra took the one addressed to her from her aunt and turned it over in her hands, a numb feeling of dread filling her mind. She could feel Charlie's eyes on her but didn't look up to meet them.

_Miss L. B. Lestrange_

_Fourth Bedroom on the Third Floor_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Wiltshire, England_

Lyra slid her finger under the fold and broke the wax seal. The parchment inside was thick and smelled slightly of mothballs.

_Miss L. B. Lestrange,_

_Your hearing date has been set for 26 June 1998 at precisely 11 o'clock. Do not be late._

_Yours truly,_

_Gawain Robards_

_Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

She set the letter down next to her plate and closed her eyes. Three days. She had just three days before her fate would be decided.

"They only gave me four bloody days!" Draco hissed, slamming his fists on the table. "How do they expect anyone to prepare in four bloody days?"

"You got a day more than I did," Lyra said quietly, not looking at her cousin.

"Mine is the day after Draco's and Lucius's is the day after mine," Narcissa said sadly. "I am so sorry that yours is first sweetheart."

Lyra finally looked up at her aunt. "It's because of my mum," she said.

Narcissa furrowed her brow. "Why would that be?"

"They all think I'm just like her."


	7. Chapter 7

**Please don't kill me. . This is actually one of my favorite parts so far, so I hope you enjoy it too XD. I'm going to Louisiana with my friend this week, we're leaving tonight and won't be home until Wednesday night or Thursday morning, so I'm leaving you with this gem of a chapter and I'll be thinking of you all while I'm wandering around the French Quarter and eating at Cafe du Monde. Please drop me a review, I really love those! **

**-Morrigan**

**I own nothing except the plot, Lyra, and a horrendous set of green robes.**

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?" Charlie asked softly, drawing circles on the small of her back.

"No," she said. She had her head on his chest and was trying to get lost in his heartbeats, but he kept trying to talk to her.

"You probably should talk about it," he insisted. "Your trial is tomorrow."

"Thank you for reminding me," she hissed. "Now be quiet, I'm trying to listen."

"Listen to what? I don't hear anything."

She rolled her eyes, knowing he couldn't see. "Your heartbeat you wanker. Shush."

He chuckled softly and his chest vibrated with the sound, sending goose bumps down her spine. She loved these moments with Charlie, though she would never admit it to him, when her head was on his chest and he was playing lazily with her hair or drawing circles on her back. It was comforting and she was more relaxed than she had probably ever been.

Other than occasionally trying to get her to talk about her feelings, Charlie didn't expect anything from her, which was exactly what she wanted. No expectations. She couldn't do expectations, not now anyway. She had way too much on her plate. All she wanted was to fall asleep counting his heartbeats.

* * *

"Is this appropriate?" Lyra came out of her closet in a set of pink robes that still had the tags on.

Charlie's eyes widened. "That is horrific."

She smacked his arm. "You are rude."

He snorted. "Pink is definitely not your colour, love."

"I know," she said. "But you told me not to wear black."

"Blue worked well for you last time," he said, walking past her into the vast closet. "I think we should stick with a lighter colour but definitely stay away from pink."

"You know," she arched a brow at him. "If I didn't know better, I would probably think that you're gay."

He let out a barking laugh and winked roguishly at her. "Good thing you know better then."

She rolled her eyes. "Just pick out some bloody robes already, we're going to be late."

"We won't be late," he said, plucking a set of light green robes from their hanger. "Try these."

Her lip curled in disgust. "That is definitely not my colour."

He scoffed. "Well you can't wear black, Lyra. You have to seem approachable, not so dark."

She narrowed her eyes at him and grabbed a set of lavender robes. "Better than pink? Because I refuse to wear robes the same colour as vomit."

"Fine. Don't blame me for how ridiculous you'll look."

* * *

"I guess I was wrong about those robes," Charlie whispered into her ear from behind her as several of her old classmates congratulated her on her acquittal.

She turned and smirked at him. "Yes you were."

He grinned and pulled her into a warm hug. "Congrats, little bird."

"Thank you," she said, choosing not to comment on his horrendous nickname for her.

He let her go when someone behind her cleared their throat, Lyra turned around to face Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, the two reasons she was not currently locked in a cell. Granger was smiling timidly at her, but Potter's face remained impassive.

Lyra bit her lip. "I can't really say how truly grateful to the two of you I am," she said hesitantly, wanting the words to come out just right. "What you did back there, testifying for me, you didn't have to, Merlin knows you didn't. But thank you, thank you so much."

Strangely, tears were filling Granger's eyes, and Potter's face had softened.

"We understand," Potter said, shrugging. "More than anyone else, I think. Everyone deserves a second chance, Lyra. You and Draco more than most."

Lyra smiled and stuck her hand out for Potter to shake. "Thank you, H-Harry."

Potter's lips twitched up into a semblance of a smile and he firmly shook Lyra's hand, and then moved aside to speak with Charlie.

"I-I want to say that I'm sorry," Lyra said softly to Granger. "For everything that happened, for everything that—that my mother did to you."

Granger shook her head; her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "That wasn't your fault Lyra, I know that. You aren't your mother and you don't have to apologise for her."

Lyra took a breath. "I should have said something that day—"

"No," Granger said firmly and, much to Lyra's shock, grasped Lyra's hand. "There was nothing you could have done without getting hurt yourself, I know that. I always knew that."

Lyra bit the inside of her cheek, she had always known she should have stood up to her mother that day, but Granger wasn't hearing it. "O-okay."

Before Lyra could even blink Granger's arms were around her neck and her face was buried in a mass of curls. Hesitantly, she put her arms around Granger's back, and patted her softly. Granger pulled away and looked at Lyra as though she could see her deepest fears and darkest desires.

"I'm sorry," Granger said quietly. "I just, I just had to do that. Harry and I will be here for the rest of your families trials," she squeezed Lyra's hand again. "We aren't going to let your family suffer more than it already has."

Suddenly, Lyra was forcing back tears. "Thank you," was all she could manage to say.

Granger smiled softly at Lyra before launching herself into Charlie's arms. Lyra turned away, meeting Draco's eyes and walking over to her family who was standing with Wes.

"What was that about?" Draco arched a brow at her. "You and Granger best friends for life now?"

Lyra coughed. "I guess so. She did get me out of life in prison anyway, I think I owe her a bit of gratitude."

Draco nodded slowly. "Never would've thought Potter and Granger would save our skins."

"She told me they would be here for your trials too, she said they weren't going to let our family suffer anymore than it already has."

Narcissa smiled. "I've always liked that girl."

Draco and Lyra turned to stare open-mouthed at the older witch.

"What?" Narcissa said, smirking. "Just because you two thought she was the worst creature in all of existence doesn't mean I did."

* * *

The morning after Lucius's trial, Charlie sat on the edge of Lyra's bed while she stood in front of him, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed at the redhead.

"I don't understand why things have to change," she said. "Just because you won't be living here anymore doesn't mean we can't keep…well you know."

Charlie rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that morning. "Because I have to go back to Romania, that's why."

Lyra's hands dropped to her sides and her face softened. "What?"

"I gotta go back," he shrugged and then looked her dead in the eye. "Unless you give me a reason to stay."

She pursed her lips. "You know I'm not ready for that."

"Look," he said. "It doesn't have to be a relationship, hell it doesn't have to be anything more than friendship if you don't want it to be. We don't even have to shag. I just want to be in your life, however I can."

She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and bit her lip. "Isn't there a dragon reserve in Wales?"

"A small one, yeah."

She licked her lips. "What if you got a job there and we got a flatshare?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "You go from not being ready for a relationship to wanting to move in together in the space of two minutes?"

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "No, idiot. Like flatmates. You have your room and I have mine. I need to get out of this bloody manor anyway, too many bad memories."

Charlie thought about it for a moment, tilting his head to the side slightly. "If you're serious about this I'll go to the reserve today and see if they can hire me on."

She smirked. "I'm dead serious, Weasel. I need a change of scenery."

* * *

"Charles Septimus Weasley! You are not living with that—that _harlot_!" Molly Weasley screamed at the top of her lungs. She was standing at her place at the table, hands on her squat hips, her face as red as a tomato.

Charlie stood at her words, anger bubbling over. "Do _not_ call her that, Mother. You can't tell me what to do, I'm a grown man," his words came out fast, but he didn't raise his voice.

"Molly," Arthur said calmly. "Charlie is twenty-six years old, he can make his own decisions."

Molly narrowed her eyes at her second eldest son. "Is she pregnant, Charlie? Is that what this is about?"

Every jaw at the table dropped, Charlie's included.

"You are barking," he said incredulously. "You honestly think that's what this is about?"

"I can't see any other reasonable explanation," Molly said defensively.

Charlie rolled his eyes and was about to tell her how ridiculous she was being when Bill stood up and put a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Mum," Bill said calmly. "Charlie is just moving into a flat with a friend, it's _really_ not that big of a deal."

Molly took a few deep breaths and pursed her lips again at Charlie. "Well, I do not approve."

Charlie scoffed. "I wasn't looking for your approval, I was just letting you know what I was doing."

With that, he left the table.

* * *

Charlie was sitting at the edge of the pond that sat just outside the woods that bordered the back yard of his childhood home, tossing pebbles into the glassy surface.

He was angry, obviously, but not just at his mother, partially at himself for just springing the news on his family, and also at the whole situation. Charlie wasn't an idiot; he knew the situation was a bit unorthodox, hell it was completely fucked up, but that didn't change anything. He was moving to Wales with Lyra and there was nothing anyone could say to change his mind.

To him, it was the perfect situation. He had his dragons, and he had Lyra. It also didn't hurt that his family was close, but not too close. Just a floo away. Everyone else had been on board with the plan, even Lyra's aunt thought it was a brilliant idea; the only two people who had opposed it were Ron and Molly. Of course.

Charlie wasn't surprised when he felt someone sit next to him.

"I was expecting Bill," he said with a slight smirk. "What brings you to my rescue, little sister?"

"I was worried," Ginny said. "I know how angry you can get."

Charlie snorted. "How's the situation inside?"

"Mum smashed a few plates then locked herself in her room and won't come out. She'll get over it, Charlie."

He shook his head. "I don't think so, Gin. Not this."

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"What?" he said, quirking a brow. "No lecture?"

"You don't need a lecture, you haven't done anything wrong. Mum is just…well, she's Mum. If there is anything that we should learn from this whole war it's that we need to do what makes us happy."

Charlie looked at his sister and smiled. "When did you get to be so wise?"

"When I survived a war."


	8. Chapter 8

**You are all beautiful and I love you.**

**-Morrigan**

**I own nothing except the plot, Lyra, and a two bedroom flat in Wales. **

* * *

"This is the last of it," Draco said, levitating another box into Lyra's new bedroom.

Lyra grinned at her aunt and cousin. "Thank you," she said, throwing her arms around both of their necks. "Thank you so much."

Draco laughed. "Is it just me, or have you become a lot less cynical since deciding to move in with a Weasel?"

"Oh shut it," she said and grinned. "I'm just looking forward to a fresh start."

Narcissa smiled sadly at her. "Promise you'll come home often to visit?"

"You can't keep me away from Sunday dinners, don't you worry!" Lyra beamed and Narcissa hugged her again quickly before turning and walking out of the flat.

Draco smirked at Lyra. "You really gonna live in separate bedrooms?"

She shoved his shoulder and his smirk turned into a grin. "I will hex you," she warned playfully. "You better visit before you go back to school."

His grin faltered and he rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me about school."

She snorted. "You'll be fine, now run along, I want to get unpacked."

Draco winked at her before following his mother out of the flat. When he was out the door, Lyra turned around to the pile of boxes in her new living room. Narcissa had helped her pick out furniture earlier that day and she wanted to make sure everything was just right before Charlie started to move in the next day.

Four hours later Lyra had finished the living room, kitchen, and bathroom and had moved on into her bedroom. Charlie had insisted that she take the bigger room because of the closet. He said he really didn't even need a closet, which she doubted but knew he was trying to be nice.

There was a small box sitting on her nightstand that she didn't recognise, warily she picked it up and sitting on her bed, she opened it. At the top of the box there was a note.

_Lyra,_

_These are just a few of your mother's things that I had, I thought you might want them. Even if you don't want them today, put them at the back of your closet, you never know when you might want to hold a small piece of her._

_xx_

_Aunt Cissy_

Lyra took a deep breath and peered into the box. At the very top under the note was her mother's wand. She picked it up and turned it over in her fingers, it was an object she had admired most of her life simply because of who it had belonged to. When she was a little girl, after her parents had gone to Azkaban, Narcissa would let Lyra look at it occasionally, but never ever touch it. She could feel the dark magic in it, a feeling she really hated so she quickly set it aside.

The next object was a photo album from when she was a small child, another thing she had coveted while growing up. She set it aside as well, curious about anything she'd never seen before. There was a velvet ring box, Lyra opened it carefully and inside were her mother's wedding and engagement rings.

She carefully slid them out of the box and slipped them onto her right hand. The fit was perfect. They were Lestrange family heirlooms, terribly old and really quite valuable. One huge princess cut diamond in the center with two fat emeralds on either side, surrounded by even more, smaller diamonds. It was beautiful and yet it wasn't. It was almost gaudy. The wedding ring was better, a simple band with channel set stones, alternating between diamonds and emeralds. It was _very_ Slytherin.

She decided that she would wear the wedding ring, leaving it on her right hand and slipped the engagement ring off and put it carefully back into the box. The wedding band was not only a part of her mum, but her dad too and that made her feel closer to them both. The next object was a leather-bound book; on closer inspection Lyra discovered that it was a journal. Her mother's journal. She didn't even know she had kept one.

The first entry was long before Lyra had even been born, the year that her mother had started Hogwarts. Lyra curled up at the top of her bed with the journal in her hands and began to read.

* * *

"Lyra?" Charlie called, walking into the flat. His eyebrows shot up when he saw the furniture there, something he really hadn't expected. He grinned, knowing it was probably Narcissa who'd insisted on furnishing the place. If it had been left up to him and Lyra, they probably would have been sitting on the floor and eating off paper plates for the next two years.

He wandered through the hall and peered into the kitchen, no sign of the witch he was looking for. Just a few more steps down the hall was his bedroom, then the bathroom and on the other side of the hall was her room. Her door was wide open and he paused before stepping inside, listening to see if she was moving around inside.

He smiled when he saw her curled up at the top of her bed, one hand on an open book, the other under her cheek. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her. It was rare that he actually got to see her sleeping because she was usually already awake when he woke on the mornings they spent together. She looked so innocent, like evil had never touched her, bad things had never happened in her life. His eyes flicked to the large scar on her forearm. He sighed, wishing the bad things away before walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

"Lyra," he said softly, gently rubbing her shoulder. "Wake up, it's nearly noon."

Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked sleepily at him.

He smirked. "Mornin' sleepyhead."

She wrinkled her nose and yawned before stretching out her limbs. "Whattimeisit?"

"Almost midday," he said.

"Shite," she said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "I must have fallen asleep while I was reading."

She picked the book up off her pillow and Charlie noticed that it was handwritten. He narrowed his eyes, trying to read the words on the open pages before she closed the leather book.

"My mother's journal," she said quietly, running her hand along the cover. "Aunt Cissy left me a box of her things, this was in it."

Charlie nodded. "That where you got that fancy ring there," he pointed to her right hand. "Or do I have some competition?"

Lyra blushed as she looked at her hand. "It's my mum's wedding ring," she said softly and he smiled.

"It suites you," he said, reaching over and brushing a strand of hair out her eyes. "Want some breakfast?"

She arched a brow. "You said it was midday, shouldn't we have lunch?"

He winked at her. "I'll make you pancakes."

* * *

Lyra stood in front of the mirror in the small bathroom of her and Charlie's flat with her wand pointed at her head and a mass of black hair piled in the sink. She wasn't sure what made her decide to cut it all off, maybe it was just because she needed a change, not that moving out of Malfoy Manor wasn't a huge change, but she needed a physical change as well. And a pixie cut seemed just the thing. It was choppy and a little messy, but she liked that. Her mother would have had a heart attack.

She pocketed her wand when she was thoroughly satisfied and had vanished all the hair out of the sink, then headed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

"Smells great," she said, sitting at the small table. "I didn't know you could cook."

Charlie turned around, a huge stack of pancakes in his hand. "Of course I can cook! What the hell?"

Lyra grinned. "Do you like it?"

Charlie's jaw dropped. "Umm."

Her grin faded into a grimace. "What? Does it look bad?"

Charlie swallowed before opening his mouth to say something, then changed his mind and set the pancakes on the table and looked back at Lyra, a look of complete shock on his face.

"Say something," she said, her eyes studying his face carefully.

He sat down, still staring at her hair and swallowed convulsively again. "I-I like it."

She arched a brow. "I don't believe you."

"No no, I really do," he smiled. "It was just a bit shocking. I saw you fifteen minutes ago and your hair was down to your waist."

She blushed and ran her fingers through her short locks. "I just needed a change."

His smile widened and he tipped a pancake onto her plate. "Moving in with me wasn't enough of a change?"

Lyra snorted and poured some syrup onto her pancake. "Apparently not. Plus the less I look like _her_, the better."

"Is that what this is about?" he asked carefully, cutting into the stack of seven pancakes on his plate.

She shrugged, eyeing his plate. "More importantly, are you seriously going to eat seven pancakes?"

He grinned. "Of course, I_ am_ a Weasley."

She shook her head and took a bite of her pancake, her face lighting up as she swallowed. "These are _gorgeous_," she said, taking another bite.

"So," he said. "How's your mum's journal?"

Lyra swallowed slowly and looked at him with weary eyes. "It's interesting, it's all from before I was born, or at least up until I was born. The last entry is right after my birth."

He nodded. "Sort of like getting to know your mum all over again?"

She pursed her lips. "Not really, she wasn't the same person once she joined the Death Eaters. It's like reading something that a totally different person wrote, Voldemort changed her."

Charlie smiled slightly. "I think it's good that you get to see a little bit of what she was like before."

She blinked at him. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

A loud tapping on the kitchen window interrupted them suddenly; Lyra jumped and dropped her fork onto her lap. She cursed under her breath as Charlie walked to the window to let the snowy owl inside. It dropped an envelope onto the table next to Lyra's plate and flew back out the open window. Lyra arched a brow at Charlie, who shook his head.

After vanishing the syrup off her jeans, Lyra picked up the letter and examined it closely. There was no return address.

Lyra hummed. "That's curious."

"What?" Charlie asked, looking back at her from the sink where he was charming the dishes to wash themselves.

"There's no return address," she said, ripping the envelope open and pulling out the thick parchment. Her eyebrows shot up as she skimmed the letter. "What the hell."

Charlie walked back over to the table and leaned over Lyra's shoulder, his hands on the back of her chair. "Your aunt?"

"Mhm," she said. "I've never actually met her."

"Looks like you're about to."

_Dear Lyra,_

_I am so sorry that is has taken me so many years to finally write to you. You can't imagine how many letters I've started and then changed my mind halfway through. I wish it wouldn't have taken what it did for me to finally gather my courage and write you. _

_Dora used to talk about you quite frequently when she was in school, she never said so, but I know she loved you. I hope you know that. _

_But that's not what I'm writing to you about now. I don't know if you are aware, but Dora has a son, his name is Teddy Lupin. He is just about three months old, and is of course, without parents. I don't want him to grow up without a family; I want us to be a proper family. For Teddy, and for you and Draco. _

_Of course you don't owe me anything, you don't have to meet Teddy or me if you don't wish to. I know it won't be easy, getting to know each other now, but I would really love the opportunity to try. All I'm asking is for you, Narcissa, and Draco to join me for tea tomorrow at noon at my house._

_I do hope you decide to come; I am so looking forward to getting to know you._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Aunt Andromeda_


End file.
